


Wendigo Woods

by The_Caffeinated_Hamster



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-07-01 05:21:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15767436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Caffeinated_Hamster/pseuds/The_Caffeinated_Hamster
Summary: When the King and Queen are murdered, a council is called in to establish the fate of the country and who will be installed as the new Ruler. Travelling Artist William Graham is commissioned to paint the council members present. Lacking security, Captain of the Guard Jack Crawford gives the job of guarding the artist to the displaced doctor to the now deceased Royal Couple- Hannibal Lecter.Reposted and to be improved after serious mental health complications





	1. Fate of the Royals

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to repost chapter one for now with the hopes I can handle this story better.

Jack Crawford, absolutely hated surprises. What he hated even more was surprises coupled with bad news. Both came to him in the early hours one day in cold morning of barely-Spring. The messenger was one of his scouts. 

“Sir?”

Jack rose his head having been awake since the door to his private room in the barrack’s opened. “What is it?” 

“You’re needed to the Royal Suite… it’s an emergency.” 

“What kind of emergency?”

“I couldn’t get much out of Richards and Tide sir… All I know is there was an attack.” 

Shit. “I’m up.” Jack growled pushing up against the mattress, “I’ll be there.” He felt cold, and his stomach knotted itself into a solid brick of unease. 

His wife was still asleep, which gave his heart some warmth, she was exhausted these days, and ran cold to the touch. It had nothing to do with winter, he was certain. He always made sure to blanket her as much as possible; even now he shifted his half of the bed covers over her prone form. He kissed the back of her neck, earning a small groan. 

“Jack?”

“I’ll be back, go back to sleep.” 

Bella didn’t believe him. She’d get the truth out of him when he came back, whenever that was. She yawned at her husband and burrowed back under the mountain of blankets, thankful for them. It was almost enough.

Upon arriving at the Royal Suite he knew he was in for trouble. Two of his best were hunched over clinging to their pole axes. Which gave Jack no little alarm, each man was ashen faced. When he bellowed for their attention, they clanked together, their eyes wild with fear. 

“What the hell happened?” Jack demanded. 

“We don’t know.” They answered. Then he was given an onslaught of jumbled information. “We didn’t see anyone go in sir! The whole night! We let the Chamber Maid go in--- screamed something terrible!”

“We swear it sir! We didn’t see anyone!” 

Jack had jumped back at the volume this early in the morning; he made a motion for them to calm down, pressing his hands downwards. “What the hell happened then?”

“They’re dead.” The two guards drew even paler. 

Jack eyed the two in alarm then went for the door. “Who knows?” 

“The Chamber Maid o’ course.” 

“N’ she was so bad off we had to get a doctor.” 

“Chilton?”

“Lecter’s chamber was closer.” 

“Very well.” Both were competent men. Jack hadn’t a qualm with either of them. Though he felt Hannibal Lecter could take a broadsword point to the foot and not say a word about the secrets of his patients. For that, Jack liked him best. “Where is the Chamber Maid?”

“She’s still in there; Doctor Lecter said she was too far into shock to be moved just yet.” 

Jack sighed eyeing the closed door, then made to enter. Both men refused to touch the latch to the door, more red flags. He opened the door and peered inside. 

Immediately he could see Doctor Hannibal Lecter standing in front of the Chamber Maid, his amber eyes snapped up to take him in. There was a curt nod then he returned to his patient bundling her tighter in the blanket. He kept his voice low as her pale lips moved in lethargic muteness, he was gentle with her. “Captain… if you would, have one of the guards escort her out. She’s coming out of it.” He spared a glance towards the Royal Bed and averted his gaze. He cleared his throat, “A gentle woman shouldn’t be in here.” 

“You heard the doctor, get her out of here.” 

“But sir…” 

“NOW.” Jack barked snapping his fingers like he would with the Page Recruits as they clumsily fell into line. 

With a yelp the men hastened to obey. Hannibal easing the woman onto her feet, she began sobbing anew. Jack stood in the threshold of the door. With the help of the guards the red headed woman was seen out. 

“Doctor Lecter if you need to step out yourself.” Jack offered still holding the door. 

“I would prefer to stay, Captain. Though I’m… of little use.” 

“You may be able to provide insight.” 

“Very little, if any, I’m afraid.” Hannibal’s face was unreadable as he stared towards the bed, his jaw flexing as if he was chewing his cheek. 

Not wishing to waste much more time, Jack finally stepped into the room. He choked on his own breath, studying the thick droplets oozing down the ornately carved wooden bedposts. From where he was in the room he could see a flash of white from the King’s side of the bed. He looked towards Doctor Lecter and stalked closer. He grounded his nerves and balked even closing his eyes didn’t help stave off the image. 

The King Lay on his back, beheaded cleanly, his head resting in waxy cold hands his hair dyed red from his beard and hair resting in a pool of standing blood , as his chest cavity was opened and flared in an expertly done Blood Eagle. The Queen was also on her back; her eyes closed facing towards her husband. She, too, had her ribs flared open with her sexual organs resting where her heart should be, and her heart where her sex organs should be. The swap alone was staggering to Jack’s mind. Jack tried to control his breathing, but each deep breath brought only the smell of hour’s old meat and the metallic zing of blood to his nose. 

A firm hand steadied him. Jack looked to the doctor who was covering his nose and mouth, his eyes glistening. “I shouldn’t ask you to stay…” 

Hannibal shook his head and swallowed thickly, “It’s shocking to say the least, Commander, but I can’t leave you alone with this burden.” 

“Thank you.” Jack swallowed; he once again eyed the Queen, looking like a felled swan gorgeous in the travesty of it all. 

How did the culprit get in, much less leave? The place was shut in tight. 

Hannibal studied the scene again, “I must… break this to the Lords and Ladies of the Council.” 

“You won’t be alone in that. But, I’m not sure if it would be wise to allow them to see the bodies.” 

“Only the ones with strong constitutions, Fredrick and I and the apprentices don’t need to be fretting over our remaining nobility.” Hannibal sounded desperate, a small bead of sweat rolled down the side of the man’s neck and into his collar. 

“I’ll do my best.” Jack promised. 

“All I dare ask of you, Commander. Thank you.” Hannibal eased away from Jack then, “For now I suppose we put on a brave face and go on with our rounds.” 

“Not knowing what else to do, that’s the wisest course of action, Doctor.” 

“We may be called callous and unsympathetic.” Hannibal warned. 

Jack shrugged, “As if we have a choice, damned if we do, damned if we don’t.” 

Hannibal gave him a wry smile, but said nothing. Then he sighed straightened himself out and went out the door, knowing full well he had to tend to a woman that would never be the same.

As if anyone would ever be the same after this. Jack refused to look back to the bed as he exited the Royal Chamber. “Tides, get me the Steward we need to get the Lords and Ladies of the Council.” 

“What will happen now?” 

“Hopefully- not a civil war.”


	2. The Good Doctor

Hannibal took time when he entered the hallway, he watched as guards tiptoed around like frightened maids. He couldn’t blame them in the least, but he did wish to be alone for a few moments. 

He kept on looking at his hands, clenching them into fists and unclenching them in stiff flexing. He set his hands on the smooth granite windowsill. If he weren’t so dependent on his hands for a living- he’d possibly punch the wall. He inhaled sharply. 

What had he innocently expected this morning when he was begged to action? “A bloody damned fainting spell… a gross understatement to say the least.” Getting her to stop staring was the trick; it took all the tricks in the book to get her to focus. He wished he didn’t have to shout and slap the girl… He’d apologize when he got emotions under control. He leaned on his elbows sinking to the floor pressing his face against the stone. 

He disliked his thoughts this morning, and how he could view his employers’ butchered bodies with such cool reserve for a time. Then the horror began to set in, but was it at how beautiful he thought the arrangement was? Whomever that was responsible must have had both strength and time to pull it off. 

Why did he want more members of the Council to see them? He swallowed. No… No these thoughts will not do. He gathered himself up despite wanting to sink into the cool stone and settle in for an eternity, he wasn’t /that/ old despite Fredrick’s less than sincere teasing. Hannibal’s lip curled into a grimace as he stood up stiffly. 

He had a patient to fret over; he’d head over to the kitchens to raid the herb garden for tea. The farther he was away from the Royal Suite, the happier he’d be and the less likely he’d go to study and stare. 

‘Would it be a standing vigil or basking in the artist’s creation?’ 

Too hell with it, he was making some of the tea for himself. He began grumbling herbs under his breath, “Matricaria Recutita, Mentha Piperita, Melissa Officinalis.” He paused, eyeing a few of the servants running to and fro- gay and none the wiser of the happenings. There was a wave of indescribable emotion that rolled through his mind like an ocean wave and was gone just as swiftly. “Camella Sinensis.” He added and walked on putting his hands behind his back. 

Wishing to avoid any waking Lords and Ladies he slipped into a hidden door the servants often times used to keep out of sight and out of mind. He was thankful to know of them, especially in times like these he wished to be left alone. As if he could answer those thoughtless questions anyway if he was cornered by the freshly informed nobility. 

He hadn’t the energy to deal with them, nor was his patience the best today. 

It wasn’t until he entered the kitchens that he realized that the word had already hit them. Spit boys stood tucked under their uncle’s and father’s arms too petrified to move. 

Those that were moving were methodical and mindless in their movements, borne out of long habit than anything else. There were strong armed women that wrestled their loaves into submission while others built the fire in the ovens. But there was nary a peep out of them.

How accurate the story was, Hannibal did not know, but he knew the shockwave had settled in. The silence was ghastly for such a loud and raucous section of the castle. When someone did speak, it sounded as if it were an address to the whole kingdom. 

“Come on Lad… we gotta get on with it.” 

“But…” 

“It won’t do to make Nobles go hungry, though it would do ‘em some good might give ‘em some empathy.”   
There were a few chuckles to which Hannibal smiled as he went to the Matriarch of the Kitchen and sat by her as she peeled carrots mechanically with her well used knife. “Martha…” 

The old woman’s head snapped up and the blade flashed along Hannibal’s face catching his cheek. Hannibal let out an undignified yelp as he fell away from Martha’s flashing peeling knife. 

“MARTHA!” Several other women ran over to pin the old woman back against her rocking chair. 

“Oh gods! Oh gods! Doctor Lecter?” She dropped her knife with an echoing clatter as Hannibal checked his hand seeing it stained and oozing with crimson. He stared at it fixated for a time. ‘Like liquid rubies…’ He thought, studying his fingers as if that held the answer to all his woes.

“Doctor I’m so sorry…” Martha squalled shaking. 

Hannibal propped himself up with his elbow then to his feet once he gathered himself, “No harm…”

“I cut your face!” She sobbed rocking back and forth. The limit had been reached for the poor woman, that last bit of upset had done her in.

“Gina a towel, please?” he asked holding his hand cupped, a brunette woman rushed off in a heartbeat from the throng fighting to get their leader’s attention “And some hot water if you don’t mind!” 

“Of course!” 

It felt like a breath later, when his hand was cleaned, and towel set to his face. “Martha, come down now, follow my breathing.” 

Martha had been in these kitchens long before Hannibal had been granted his doctorate, she looked like parched earth, but her eyes were always jovial and sweetly tempered. 

“Oh Doctor…” she patted his unmarred cheek, “What have I done to you?” 

“Well… if not by a blade than by my own cheekbones.” Hannibal managed with a glib tone, which Martha smiled too and patted his cheek again, “Martha… I must confess that I don’t think it will do for you to be working today.”

“Oh, but sir!” she gasped, “I can’t not work!” 

“You’re in shock, and it won’t do for you to slash at one of your girls.” 

“I… hadn’t thought of it.” 

He nodded his head, “I’ve a patient already that’s suffering a shock. I’m in need of your herb garden and the key to the tea chest.” Martha scrambled for the key that hung on a loop at her waist. “Take whatever you need to restock Doctor… take it all for all I care. There will always be more.” 

Hannibal gave her a gentle look, shifting off towards the storeroom. 

“Matriarch… what possessed you to strike him?”

“The King and Queen” there was a broken sound, “are gone and I thought the monster was coming after me…” 

“You thought Doctor Lecter was a monster? Matriarch- he’s the gentlest man in the castle!” 

Glowing praise… Hannibal thought, he wished he was so certain of himself. With that he closed the door behind him. There he enjoyed the darkness and the few sparse beams of light from a high window that pooled into the room. He removed the linen cloth from his cheek and touched his fingers to the still oozing wound. He pulled his fingers away and wiped them to escape the urge to lick him. 

Something might be just a touch wrong with him. 

He grabbed his herbs and tea and left the room, fearing what the darkness might be doing to his already weary mind. 

He made short work of his tea brewing. Two large kettles worth were made up enough for servants, and Nobles to be divided accordingly- courtesy of Doctor Lecter. Martha was bundled in her shawl and took her tea refusing to look him in the eye but apologized around her sips of tea. He watched her be helped out of the Kitchens by two women he assumed were her daughter and granddaughter then promptly left with a small earthenware pot he carried by a woven handle through the corridors. 

The tea was cooled enough to be drinkable when he reached his destination, with a gentle knock he let himself in. 

It was a pitiful sight to say the least, the Chamber Maid was there, bundled tight in a blanket, her shoulders hunched over in an arc, her head bowed, and the blanket made a shroud over her fiery red hair. Her slippers were falling off her freckled feet as she sat half curled into a ball as if her muscles had stiffened and remained petrified in mid motion. She looked up at him, eyes wide and fretful. 

“Doctor Lecter…. What are you doing here?” She studied the fresh cut to his cheek which had since stopped bleeding, she hadn’t remembered there being a mark on him before. If it were her place, she’d ask what had happened, but it wasn’t, therefore it was not her business. 

“You’re my patient.” 

“I’m just a maid.” 

“Shush child I would be a very poor doctor indeed to deny you care. Come now.” He motioned for her to get her feet off the bed. “I’ve brought you something to help you relax.” 

She bit her lip, but obeyed him, “I’ve no right to ask anything of you… but…” 

Hannibal looked up from his pouring, glad to see that the Maid had at least gotten the blanket off her head. He was reminded of Mischa when she was petrified of a storm outside, “But what?” he asked in a calm tone.

“I just, have this feeling like this won’t end well.” 

Hannibal’s face pinched together, curious to her logic as he eased a mug into her hands. “Drink up.” 

“I’ve a feeling the Council won’t be very sympathetic to me…. I... I didn’t know. How was I to know what happened? Who would wish them ill in such a manner? Not even our worst enemies would---” she shook slipping into a panicked state once more.

“Miss…” he paused, not knowing her name.

“Terra.” She supplied her lips pale for the moment, but at least she responded with his prompting.

“Miss Terra, you merely discovered the bodies, any sensible person that’s… SEEN what has been done to our King and Queen shouldn’t hold anything but the utmost sympathy for your ordeals. I know they will want normalcy to be established with a regent as soon as possible but I sincerely believe that there is very little to worry about. Now drink your tea. I’ll be right here while you calm down.” 

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:   
> Matricaria Recutita- Chamomile  
> Mentha Piperita- Peppermint  
> Melissa Officinalis- Lemon balm  
> Camella Sinesis- Green Tea


	3. The High Council

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> repost with minor tweaks to the original chapter. One day I will get the hang of writing Fan fiction again.

Hannibal was pleased, after little more than an hour with his new favorite patient, was smiling a little. She was still pale but at least her hands and feet had finally warmed up and she was reclining in her cot, looking moments away from dropping off into sleep. Hannibal smiled gesturing for her to finish up her tea. Sluggishly she obeyed and offered the earthenware mug to him. 

“There we are.” Hannibal grinned, “Good girl.” 

The girl blinked at him slowly and nodded thankfully. 

“I’ll be back later on to check on you.” He promised, he bowed to her and walked out. Leaving her to sleep off the worst of the terrors, he hoped. 

She was a gentle soul, though why she was so frightened of the High Council was beyond him. She was a witness, nothing more. Was there a reason for witnesses to fear them? Last he knew they were quirky but fair. Hannibal hummed holding his hands behind his back as he walked through the corridors running alongside Jack sooner than he thought he’d might.

“Doctor?” 

“Captain.” Hannibal nodded eyeing Jack; the two men paused eyeing each other. Hannibal squinted at him a little, wondering if the silver on the sides of his head were always there or if it was merely the trick of the light. 

“The Council is meeting now… the Chairman is requesting your professional opinions.” Jack sighed. “Between them and getting this place secure. No one is allowed in especially while I’ve got my scouts trying to sniff out leads.” Jack began to vent, Hannbial paused to listen intently.  
“I’ve had a damnable time with the Royal Suite.” No one wanted to stand post as a superstitious fear began to paralyze his men, “What’s worse was letting the Council in the Chamber… I swear this day has taken days off my life.” 

“How many saw?” 

“A good number, the first three Ladies to go in was the end of it. Some of the older members insisted, naturally, I had to drag them out.” 

Hannibal jolted his mouth opened to object, even with himself, Chilton, and their staff of nurses there was only so many emergencies they could handle and with no ability to summon extra hands to help? There would be death by exhaustion before the day was out! He opened his mouth to plead Jack have more caution but was stopped.

“They’re fine, just shock. You’ve made enough of that calming draught to take care of the castle to an extent. Though I fear we may need a fresh batch soon, we haven’t the time to waste for you to brew it yourself, just send over the recipe to the kitchens, you know how impatient the Council gets if they are left waiting for experts.” 

“Ah, I’ve heard Their Majesties complain, but no I don’t know firsthand.” 

“Consider yourself lucky. Oh and, Doctor Lecter… I must insist you start including “Late”.”

Hannibal’s face twitched with a beginning snarl but he bit it back, “Of course.” 

The walk to the Council Chamber was quiet. Neither Jack nor Hannibal spoke along the way. Even if they did try to make small talk, there was very little to say. The two knew each other, but they weren’t especially close. 

“Here we are.” 

Hannibal took stock of the imposing oak doors carved with regal motifs, palm trees, lions and the Royal Crest in the center of the doors a warm patina had developed over the years adding contrast to the century’s old door that swung open with a small groan. 

“Announce Dr. Lecter, Herald.” Jack ordered.

“I’m glad you two showed up… they’ve been getting antsy there’s some talk about flogging.” 

“They can try it.” Jack grumbled putting his hang on the hilt of his sword that rested at his hip. 

Hannibal’s face pinched hoping the Commander would ease on his temper. It was doing nothing to improve the mood the doctor was in. 

The Herald stepped into the room holding his head high, “Captain of the Guard- Jack Crawford and Doctor Hannibal Lecter.” 

A few heads popped up. 

“Good day to you Doctor… Please. Sit.” The Eldest council member said gesturing to a velvet seat in the middle of the half circle of the high table. The withered hands went back to the cup he was cradling and took a shaky sip.

Hannibal bowed and took his seat; he waited for a time as all 10 faces of the Council stared down at him from their seat at the High table. The Two seats meant for the King and Queen were empty with two black velvet blankets draped over the backs. 

“What do you make of the scene?” one member spoke up, finally breaking the terrible wait.

It was beautiful. Hannibal admitted internally, “As a doctor- I’m amazed at the skill that was required to do what was done. As a man- I am uneasy and worried that the culprit is someone close to the Royal Couple.” 

There was a murmur of agreement. 

“Do you know of anyone wishing ill on the Late King and Queen?” Lady Lounds asked leaning her head elegantly on her poised hand. Her red curls falling in ringlets down her back. She seemed to be taking great pleasure in having Hannibal sitting where he was, as if he was already guilty of a crime. 

How rude.

Hannibal fell silent, then, he shook his head, “If they were concerned with anyone, I was not privy to the knowledge.” 

“Would your fellow doctor know perhaps?”

“I do not think so.” 

“Then this line of questioning is utterly useless.” A bearded Lord bellowed, Hannibal couldn’t immediately place him, the Master of the Hunt perhaps?

But honestly, what were they expecting? There was a ball of heat in Hannibal’s stomach. If he had known the answer the bell tower would have trouble silencing him.

Then the many heads of the Council turned inwards and they began chattering much like teenagers over salacious news. 

“I think it may be wise to hire someone to paint the scene, as well the council that will be presiding over this plot.” 

“Oh I’ve heard things coming from the Artist College up north.” 

“No. I won’t give such hefty duties to mere students.” The Eldest member snarled. 

What…. Was this? Hannibal was frozen in his chair, reluctant to leave without being told to stand. It wasn’t until Jack put his hand on his shoulder that he stood then slowly moved away. 

Hannibal kept his voice low, “Is this common?” 

“I wish it wasn’t if they aren’t rushing to solve the issue they’re looking for means to fritter time and resources.” Jack mouthed making Hannibal squint to read his lips. 

“We’ll need someone that has a strong constitution and may be a little out of touch.” A shrill voice interjected.

Jack and Lecter eyed each other, an obvious pinch to their faces; both failing to understand the need for commissioning an artist when the castle and soon the country would be bleating out in rightful panic. 

Hannibal could understand to an extent, but wouldn’t it be wiser to at least debate, agree, and then install a regent? At least until something could be done one way or another? But hiring an artist before proceedings went on? Truly? He dared to turn his face towards Commander Crawford and he felt his head tilt to the side. 

‘Do you believe any of this? At all?’ the doctor’s face read. 

Jack shook his head ‘no’. 

“What about this…. Will Graham? I hear he’s at least reasonably human, a bit of a savage. Quiet, does good work and leaves as soon as he’s paid.” 

“The Travelling Artist? Well, he’ll certainly have the constitution, but can we honestly trust a partial wild man? We’d never find him and I rather doubt the Kingdom at large will have the patience to try and track him down.” 

Two men apart of said Kingdom were wishing there were more competent people in politics, but to say otherwise would leave them without tongues. Both eyed each other out of the corner of their eyes, there expressions becoming fixed. 

“It’s easy to contact him, I’ve heard if you tie a message on a dog and let it loose he’ll find it.” 

“Excuse me?” Hannibal interjected, raising his hand. The council stopped their gossiping to stare at the Doctor for his interruption. Jack, Hannibal knew, could speak more freely with the council than he could. 

Hannibal held his tongue for a second longer, “What do you mean find the dog?”

“It’s rumored he’s a dog stealer.” 

Hannibal felt his teeth latch onto his inner cheek and sink into the skin there. He eased off not wanting to taste blood in his mouth. With his less than normal thoughts today he didn’t need to add fuel to this particular fire. He forced his jaw to relax and the meeting washed over him like a fever dream afterwards.

The more sound arguments for hiring the artist was to make note of the particular way the Royal couple had met their end, perhaps they was evidence within the sculpture of the corpses? 

That was at least sound; plans were made to have the room preserved and the bodies kept as fresh as possible. Ice was ordered to be set into the rooms by Doctor Lecter, the Captain of the Guard and three men of the Captain’s choice. 

“Doctor Lecter you are unfortunately tasked with maintaining the bodies. It is an unenviable task before you. Do you think you can manage it?” 

He wished to say ‘no’ but there was a deep seated need to be allowed back, if only to allow himself this last service to his dearest patients. 

At least, that’s what he told himself. He nodded, “I will endeavor to try.” 

“Very well, send for a page we need a dog… the mangier the better.” 

“PAGE!” Jack bellowed. 

Hannibal jolted his ears ringing from the blast of Jack’s voice. The thought: ‘I could have done that’ came and went. All that was left was his ears being sore with a headache forming behind his eyes. Looking for any excuse at all to leave the prying eyes of this Counsel and their pointless gossip he raised his hand level with his face.

“Yes Doctor?” 

“I do not wish to insult the court.” Hannibal began, “But I do wish to inform my fellows about the dynamic shift in my role.” 

There was sighing, as if one minor detail extra to think about was too taxing on their brains. Hannibal felt his jaw tighten then was ultimately distracted from his forming thoughts as a scrappy dog with an under bite shuffled into the room the Page was fighting the dog as it dragged the pint sized boy along on the smooth tile. 

 

“Perfect. Lady Lounds?” 

“The commission is all drafted, including the payment for his services; after all, artists are whores for money.” 

There was a flash of red that filtered through Hannibal’s eyes he felt his fists clench tightly, his nails digging blunted shapes into his palms. The pain was good, the pain kept him from saying something that would jeopardize his standing at the very least. 

“Ah yes, Doctor Lecter, you’re dismissed. If we feel it necessary we’ll summon you again, are there any other questions for Doctor Lecter?” 

“Nay.” Came a bored echo of 9 other voices.

“Very well the witness is dismissed.” 

Hannibal kept his composure until he was out of the room and he allowed his eyes to roll freely in the darkness of the access room. He growled out, “There are bigger whores sitting at the table Lady…” then left to the larger halls beyond. 

It was only polite to tell his fellow doctor face to face. But truly all Hannibal wished to do was go to his private quarters. That existed just a little beyond a small flower garden that was a converted solarium that had been sitting quietly forgotten by most. The Queen had gifted it to him, knowing his penchant for privacy. 

He was grateful for it, going there when he needed it most, but otherwise stuck to the assigned dormitory. 

Luck would have it, for once today, that Fredrick was tending to one of the younger Guards, who seemed to be suffering from acute stress. Such a shame to the teen’s plight, but, it did give Hannibal an excuse to leave a note with one of the nurses. 

“But sir don’t you wish to tell him face to face?” 

“I’d hate to distract him from his patient. If Doctor Chilton has any questions I’ll be… gathering my mind.” 

“Of course.” She bowed to him somberly. “Do take care.”

Hannibal’s headache was starting to dissipate during his solitary walk towards the garden line. He opened his palms brushing along a few buds as he eased his way to the solarium. He entered after easing his boot laces loose, then easing them off once he was through the threshold.

He padded along stripping off his formal outer clothes to his linen shirt underneath and undid the ties as he sat down in an old worn arm chair. 

“I figured you be coming here today, Hannibal.” The voice spoke trickling into his ear like raindrops against glass window panes, “I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you as well. I truly should try and make more time to visit you.” 

“Don’t be silly.” The voice changed slightly, a voice he knew well, light and teasing and it warmed his heart, “You’re busy being a healer. The loneliness isn’t not so bad I’ve made plenty of passing friends.” 

Hannibal nodded and he could feel gossamer tendrils of a breeze pass by his arm and a ticklish touch that got him to smile. His eyes still closed he tracked the soft sounds and could hear another chair begin creaking rhythmically. ‘Of course, the rocker.’ He thought with another wry smile, she always did love rocking chairs.

“I had a bit of a shock this morning though.” The voice changed, now that she was being serious, older perhaps a late teen? Hannibal could never guess right. “They were so stunned to be where they were. Do you know why both the King and Queen passed through? Hannibal?”

“Mischa…” Hannibal opened his eyes and faced the transparent face of his sister, who, in death figured out how to age herself slightly to satisfy her own curiosity of what she’d look like if she was still alive.


	4. Travelling Artist William Graham

“You look exhausted Hannibal… Have something to drink.” 

“I shouldn’t, I’m dodging my responsibilities enough as it is.” Hannibal pushed himself off the back of the chair and leaned forward rubbing his face with both his hands. “So you saw them…. In passing…” 

He knew what it meant; Mischa seemed to be an arbiter for the recently deceased helping them go to the next point. “How were they?”

“Stunned more than most I’ve dealt with.” Mischa said willing the chair to rock, her ethereal form moving with it, “I’ve had easier times with the young. They’ve no feeling at all about leaving everyone behind. The only ones better are the battle weary.”   
The old dog soldiers, the mothers that fought to birth their children with varying degrees of success, and those that grew too world weary with no escape otherwise. They battled in one form or another. Mischa sighed. “They were a touch rude to me.” Her round little face crinkled and her nose scrunched up, “I was tempted to let them wander. But I would be stuck with them.” Her mouth pulled into a snarl, but her teeth were always visible.

On occasion Hannibal could almost see a flicker of colour in her translucent body. The eeriest thing was that her organs were visible and if he studied her long enough, the heart would beat- just one time. 

“I thought you said they were nice.”

“Typically….” Hannibal huffed, “Typically. Though there were moments.” 

“I suppose being murdered and having no memory of the events will do that.” Mischa sniffed primly stopping the rocking and going to her brother. Her tiny hands urging him to sit back, Hannibal’s skin involuntarily pricked with the cold.   
Hannibal was rarely touched by his sister, and it was for the best for the most part. It was like being thrown into a lake of ice water. Always Hannibal’s heart would jolt. 

“You take this too hard Hannibal.” 

“Do you know…. What did this?”

“I do, but I cannot say. It is forbidden I interject to much as it is. But if I wasn’t so good with my job over this land- I would be made to move on.” 

“Why haven’t you?”

“Because, we need each other.”

 

\--Later--

 

“Jack…” Bella crooned looking up at her husband as he jittered his way about their private quarters, “Darling I highly doubt the stone can take much more pacing. You’ll fall straight through in no time.” 

“What?” Jack jolted staring at the floor, he looked at his wife and gave a sigh, “Darling….” He went to her and took up her hands, pleased to feel them warm today, he kissed her lips softly. 

“This business will see you dead in a month. I beg you to get your Left Tennant to take over, just for today.” 

“I can’t. I can’t do that.” He shook his head looking away, “We’re already down too many men, they’ve all but fled to different countries and our allies are weeks out for reinforcements if I’m not seen more will leave. I’m desperate Bella, I need bodies lining these walls and-”

Bella kissed him again, “I beg of you, stay.” 

Jack let out a rattling noise, fighting his shot nerves and exhaustion. The bags under his eyes growing thicker by the day and the silver on his military shaved head growing ever broader each time Bella saw her husband. She could see his resolve starting to crack. 

She pushed her luck dragging him close and back into bed. 

Jack’s eyes closed and he was asleep on her lap in no time. Bella exhaled and lay back on the pillows, too exhausted for anything else. She massaged Jack’s scalp wishing for simpler times. 

The pounding on the door startled both Bella and Jack awake as a page flew into the room shaking with fear but bound to duty. Jack knew instantly. 

“Ollie?” 

“Sir… I got to tell you that…” he stopped grabbing the hem of his tunic in his fright, “More men have left sir… Left Tennant Pierce noticed during role…” 

Jack got up and ran past the boy half-dressed and eyes still glazed with sleep. The page squeaked running after him like a whipped pup leaving Bella alone. 

\--- Outside the Castle Walls--- 

Most rational people would send a carrier pigeon with a commission request. Maybe a Sovereign or two to butter him up and get his interest. But this was, at best, laughable. He wondered what stories had gotten about. 

The bolder the claim the more it seemed to stick. Will looked down at the dog that he tucked into his travel coat. The mutt let out a snort pleased to be not walking still. 

There was very little spared on the details, no drop of gore left unattended, no penny unaccounted for and a dog to butter him up. 

He did take them up on the commission of course, if only to set Buster here loose to take a leak on their silken shoes. Just to ruin their day. 

A distant call got his attention. “What in the Gods’ Green earth are you doing here?” 

“I’m Will Graham I’m here to take up the commission request.” Will called back shouting back up through cupped hands. 

“Times that hard? We’re taking bets to see who snaps first things aren’t as plush as they were!” 

“That’s not my concern! I’m here to paint, get paid and leave!” 

“You should be so damn lucky!” With that the gate groaned open. 

Will rolled his eyes and Buster yawned kicking at the buttons, “In a bit.” 

The guard he was having a shouting match with came down from his perch to greet him. “Things are…. Tense. I should tell Commander Crawford that you’re here.” 

Jack being told that the council, and this damnable artist needed a guard had sliced their ranks to thin. Most any one could think of as a comparison was a frozen lake in the last stages of thawing but somehow hadn’t broken. 

Will Graham would have turned down the guard, this whole thing reeked of paranoia. King and Queen dead sure, but a full lock down, and people have already fled? Loosen up and expect that the person responsible had slipped through already. 

No sense in it. No sense in it at all. 

But, he supposed orders were orders. It had to suck being in the military. It just plain had to. He looked around at the castle, barely a soul to be seen save for the guard that was talking at him. He pulled Buster out of his spot, and set him down. 

Buster shook himself ran up to the nearest brick surface, peed, pooed, kicked up grass and ran off. 

“I suppose you should see the High Council they should be waiting in the chamber--- Wait!” 

“I’ll see them.” Will assured. “I’ve got to keep an eye on Buster.” 

Actually, he just wanted to get away, and hoped Buster would lead him to the dog kennels, and by all indications. That’s exactly where he was headed. 

Good. Will suspected he’d be offered a spot in the kennel to serve his ‘Wild Man’ tendencies. He kept his focus on Buster. A bit of sleep would do him good. 

Hannibal watched an unknown man walk through, his shoulders slightly hunched in the pack on his back making him lean forward. Curious, Hannibal followed, taking in the disheveled growing out beard and the chaotic mane of curls on the man’s head. 

Then straight to the kennels he went holding the door open for a familiar looking dog. The pack slid off the man’s shoulders and he cracked his spine loudly as he arched his shoulders. Hannibal winced, “Excuse me!” He called. 

The man froze and turned, a flash of sharp blue eyes studying him briefly before turning his gaze down. 

“We’ve beds available if you’d rather-”

“No. Don’t bother.” With that he entered the kennels and slammed the door behind him. 

Point… Point taken, far be it for him to try and be hospitable. It seemed as if everyone was taken turns trying to spit in his eye these days. Hannibal stared at the door and thought to give a piece of his mind. 

No… no that wouldn’t do. 

Gods save him as soon as he was allowed to leave, he would. He just hoped Mischa wouldn’t mind another move. But honestly what qualms did a ghost have with drifting off into a new location? Hannibal crossed his arms and thought on it. Mischa had mentioned once before, that it was hard to break a roaming routine. 

Once it was established, that was it, and moving meant getting ‘stuck in walls’. 

Which endlessly confused Hannibal to be sure; then again, it wasn’t his place to know such things just yet. ‘You’re going to get me into so much trouble Hanni!’ she chided. 

Hannibal allowed himself a smile for a brief moment, before making his way through his rounds. 

It wasn’t long at all before all hell broke loose again. Jack could be thrown into a rage so easily these days. 

“What do you mean you lost the damn artist already?” He hissed leaning over the table, the guard there began to slump in submission. 

Hannibal bit his cheek and knocked on the open door, he noticed the wood was starting to peel away from the hinges from Jack’s more violent bouts. 

This whole situation was getting out of hand, any more of this and Hannibal feared he’d have to sedate the Commander to give the remaining few men room to breathe. “Commander.” Hannibal began gently. 

Jack spun around on his heel and opened his mouth to snarl at the doctor but stopped short, the rage in his sails waning almost instantly. “Doctor Lecter…. Come in…” 

“I must insist you try and reign in your temper. You cannot blame the Gate’s Keeper for a man with a very….” He paused to think, “Unique, way of thinking.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“He’s… sleeping off his journey in the dog kennels.” 

Jack slowly inhaled through his nose, his nostrils flaring. Hannibal could see the ire reaching another boiling point. He snapped his fingers at the guard still comically slumped in the wooden chair. “Get to your post. Doctor with me, NOW.” 

Hannibal internally sighed, following the commander. Whatever slow blooming flower of friendship there was between them was being tested. How far this particular fire would reach remained to be seen in Hannibal’s eyes. 

“Since, you’re so good at keeping track of him.” Jack began, marching towards the kennels at a brisk pace, “I suppose you’ll have to take this particular hit for the sake of my men.”

“What are you getting at?” Hannibal huffed not wanting to dance around the matter his voice sharper than he intended. 

Jack, thankfully, seemed to be in a manic state and merely smiled at him. “Doctor or not you’re in charge.” He opened the door and went inside. 

There was an undignified noise and Will Graham was brought out, by the scruff of his tunic, his body was comically limp and his mouth pulled into a childish pout. 

“You can be his guide and guard.” 

“Commander Crawford, I’m not trained to.” 

“It’s not that hard.” He shook Hannibal’s hand and plopped Will Graham at his feet, “Welcome to the Guard.” 

With that he left still smiling, as if he had gotten something to go his way for the first time in weeks. 

Hannibal stared down at the artist whose tired gaze met his in a brief moment. 

“Fuck this shit I’m going back to sleep.” Will groaned curling up on the ground right there at Hannibal’s feet. Hannibal looked around briefly, sighing.


	5. Chapter 5

Hannibal had enough, “Come on, we’re getting you a room.”

“Oh? Are you certain- I’m an animal best put a lead on me before anything else. I’m not to be trusted on my own.”

“Says who?” Hannibal felt his eyebrows pinch.

“Most everyone.” Will sniffed.

“I’m not of that particular opinion.”

“Then something is deeply and fundamentally WRONG with you.”

“Tell me is this just so you can drive off positive interaction or just a precursor to the sass you intend to give you the High Council?”

Will’s face fell at that, a sharp blue gaze shot up at Hannibal. Then back to the ground.

“If you want to make it through your time here.” Hannibal began gently, “You best start making eye contact, they’ll eat you alive.”

“Looking them in the eye will do that anyway.” Will snorted sitting up, he braced his elbow on his knee as his thumb scrubbed at his eyebrow, “All eyes are books. It’s so easy to see intention.”

Interesting. 

“Are you always so pessimistic?”

“As a doctor one would think you’d have at least an ounce of that in you. Or do you merely hide it to give people false hopes?” 

“Someone has to look on the positive side.” 

“The Ruling Monarchs are dead, people are trying to turn this castle into a ghost town, and the people that are currently trying to keep this country, which is on fire mind you, afloat thought it best to hire in an artist to paint the crime scene so they can get their damn rocks off.” Will snapped standing in Hannibal’s path stopping him from opening a door. 

Hannibal’s hand snaked around Will’s waist and he pulled the latch open anyway. “If you’re saying I’m not disturbed you’d be wrong William.” 

“Will.” The artist hissed his face contorting, “Lest you prefer me to call you “Father”.” 

“It depends on the context.” 

Will choked on his on breath then, Hannibal ushering him through the castle grounds with a calm placid smile. He would catch Will sparing a glance at him a few times here and there at the corner of his eye. 

“I’m sure you have questions.” 

“Plenty.”

“Any for me?”

“No, you’re criminally boring.” Will’s lip caught up in a sneer. 

“Give it time.” Hannibal assured, “We are after all saddled with each other. Commander Crawford isn’t one to cross.” 

“Your look out not mine.” 

“Still, I’m in charge of your comfort and well being, I’ve made a very comfortable situation for myself here.” Hannibal took his turn to block Will’s path as he leaned in, “And if you don’t wish for me to tie a lead and collar around your throat to escort you hither and yon on these grounds you will play along with this game.”

Will’s face was pale then and his pupils widening in shock, there was a flash of pink as Will fought to gather a comeback. But found he couldn’t. 

Hannibal hid his pleased smile for when he turned back around continuing onwards to the Council Chambers. 

Will was eyeing Hannibal’s back, unsure of totally what he was dealing with in the doctor. Perhaps he miscalculated him? Possible but Will truly didn’t wish to be around long enough to find out any more about this man. 

“Doctor Lecter. Just in time, there’s another hour before they break for the day.” 

“Herald.” Hannibal greeted with a bow once they were close by the entrance. “Are they amiable today?”

“Are they ever?”

“Ah fair enough.” Hannibal sighed, ready to shove Will into the room and let the wolves guised as noble people do as they pleased. But risk losing out on entertainment? No no, he wished to see this. “Announce us both if you would please?” 

“But of course.” The herald gave Hannibal a pleasant open smile for Hannibal.

Will on the other hand glared at the floor, as if he was thinking twice about putting himself into this situation. The whole thing reeked of paranoia and there was only two words that would set the remaining peoples into a band of bloodthirsty animals: Witch Hunt. 

He escaped several bad commissions, he just hoped he didn’t have to put this in as another notch on his belt. The roaring din of the Herald washed over Will as he followed behind Hannibal, feeling the air around him and letting it wash over his senses. 

The air felt, greasy, in this chamber, like the air was slathered in fat-back. Will fought to keep his nose from wrinkling at the cloying scents of perfume vying for dominance. 

He might not care much for Hannibal, but at least he had an earthy feel to his airs. But, as Will found, aristocracy always had that uncleaned feel to it. He looked up finally and stared at the Council. He also gave a small glance over to Hannibal as he spoke to the condition of the bodies currently. 

Will kept silent eyeing up and down the Council, greedy, plotting, whore, greedy, dangerous… 

“Are you up for the task?” One member sneered. 

‘Bastard.’ Will nodded, “I’ve dealt with more unsightly subjects.” 

“I’d rather doubt such things. But if you are certain.” The man flicked his hand dismissively. Will mentally scratched out ‘Bastard’ and settled the much worse ranking of ‘Pig Fucker’ in its stead. 

The air was sizzling now, and instead of waiting for a formal dismissal Will merely left. Hannibal merely watched him go, a look of disappointment in his mellow eyes but little else showed. Will would have bet good money he would have jumped or made some protest. 

But he didn’t. 

Hannibal bowed to the Council, “Seeing I’ve been ordered to watch Mr. Graham I’m afraid I must go.” 

“As you were Doctor. Good luck with this one.” 

Luck wouldn’t be the half of it.


End file.
